


Warrior to Warrior

by ahimsabitches



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Moina is a friend's OC, dredda is shit at communication, they also fucc, they fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 06:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16887168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahimsabitches/pseuds/ahimsabitches
Summary: Who do you think that was on the other side of the door?





	Warrior to Warrior

In the vast echoing sprawl of the Hero's Forge, Draal took Dredda by the waist and pulled her close. “Why do you come to _me_ , changeling,” he rumbled, “when it's _him_ you're really thinking of?”

Dredda, flush with heat and already reaching up to undo her belt, paused. Thoughts

_How did he know?_

_I'm careful and he's unobservant. Who told him?_

_Who else knows?_

skittered through her mind. Her smile faded. She fought some of it back. “Him who?” she breathed silkily.

Draal snorted a chuckle and spun Dredda away from the Forge entrance, half like a dancer and half like a fighter. She went like a dancer, pliant and smooth. Any other time she would have already locked swords with him.

“I may not be as smart as the historian, but I'm not stupid.”

Trembling with need, but with chin up and chest proud, Dredda held out her hand to Draal. “I don't know what you're talking about. You know how hard it is for me to ignore this,” she gestured to herself, to the wet spot between her legs and the heat-fluid already dripping down the inside of her thigh. “If I wanted one person, I couldn't just... _switch_ to wanting a different person. It doesn't work like that.”

“And yet, somehow,” he took her hand and leaned close so that his breath feathered her hair, “it does.”

A hot/cold eel of lust slithered up and down her spine as Draal's teeth tickled her ear. She made a small animal noise in the back of her throat and her knees unlocked. Draal caught her by the waist before she slid to the floor, and his hard cock pressed against her belly through his leathers. She moaned again and rolled her hips against him.

Draal rumbled a deep, needful growl and his great chest expanded as he sucked in a snoutful of her heat scent. Dredda clung to his neck with one arm and scrabbled at the knot holding the wraps on her chest together.

Before she could undo the knot, Draal peeled her off him and held her at arm's length. “I've kept my mouth shut long enough, Dredda.”

Dredda's brain, succumbing to centuries' worth of bred-in responses, ground its gears at the sudden _interruption._ Some of the lust in her sparked to anger. “Are you _really_ going to walk away from this, Draal?” She snapped, panting lightly. She hated the note of desperation in her voice, but she couldn't help it.

The resolution in Draal's face flickered. He glanced aside. Snorted bullishly. “All I know is how you two look at each other. How you smile more around him than anyone else.”

Was there... _sadness_ in his face when he looked back at her?

“How he can calm you down with little but a word...” Draal laid a huge, gentle hand on her shoulder, “...and a touch of your arm.”

Dredda saw her own lie in Draal's piercing two-toned eyes, and her shoulders sagged. It was her turn to look away. She took a shaky breath. Lust thudding away at her brain like a sledgehammer in time with her heartbeat made it difficult to think coherently anyway, but a conversation of this depth was far beyond Dredda's faculties. She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Draal, I... can't focus...”

“That's not an excuse,” he rumbled. “You have enough of your wits about you to keep up the lie, even now.”

Another spike of anger drilled into her between her shoulderblades, snapping them back from their slouch. She shot a glare at him. “What do you want from me then? Want me to kick you in the nuks and walk out of here?”

Despite the situation, Draal chuckled. “I want you to tell the truth to _yourself_ , changeling.”

Dredda narrowed her eyes, lust and anger and suspicion all roiling together in a hot spiky ball just below her heart. “Why do you care?”

That was the one question Draal hoped Dredda wouldn't ask, because he did not have an answer. He gazed at the bundle of thrumming changeling-shaped energy in front of him, ready to either fuck him or fight him depending on which muscles he tensed in which direction.

He could allow himself to love her. Easily. And he almost had. Several times. It hadn't just been the memory of Nomura that had held him back, and it hadn't just been the realization-- later on-- that she loved the historian that had stopped him. An untouchable savagery lived in Dredda; a capacity for blind, annihilating rage that he had only ever encountered in the Skullcrusher's son.

He supposed he knew _why_ she possessed it (or it possessed _her_ ); she had been, after all, bred to be a fierce warrior and a mother to Gunmar's Daywalker generals. He did not blame her for it and neither did he wish it away from her. Warrior spirits kindled to their kind with a molten fervor that few others could understand. Draal supposed it was for that reason that he had not allowed the rest of his spirit to twine around hers.

Warrior spirits kindled to their kind, and sometimes the sparks made _wildfires._

So it was all the better, then, that the historian could be balm to Dredda's fury.

Whether or not he knew what he was getting into was an entirely _different_ matter, and was not Draal's to wrestle.

Draal took a breath flavored with Dredda's intoxicating sweet-earthy heat scent, and sighed it out, ignoring for the moment his own rut pulsing insistently deep and low in his belly. “I care because I know what secrets like that do to a warrior's focus and resolve,” he said. “The more energy you spend on maintaining the lie, the less you have for the fights you must fight.”

Dredda bared her changeling-fangs in a bitter smile. “I've spent my whole _life_ maintaining _dozens_ of lies for my own _survival_ . That's what being a changeling _is,_ Draal.”

“And did you not say yourself, to Vendel after he agreed to your continued presence here, how grateful you were that you didn't _have_ to hide or lie anymore? That there was one place-- _here_ ” he stomped his foot on the stone floor, “-- that you could exist free of pretense?”

Dredda glared yellowly at him, her nostrils pulsing with every heat-heavy breath.

“One warrior to another,” he said, softening his voice and stepping close to her, “you cannot hope t--”

With lethal speed, Dredda ducked his open arms, spun, and pistoned her clawed foot into the center of Draal's chest. The air whoosed out of his seized lungs with a _WHOOH_ and he stumbled backward.

“If you won't fuck me then _fight me_ , warrior!”

Draal sucked burning air into his burning chest, coughed, and shook his head. Dredda crouched in a ready-stance, every muscle in her thrumming with heat-lust momentarily transmuted into rage. Nothing for it. Draal rolled his shoulders and felt his own rut roll over to battlelust. “All right, changeling,” he growled, and launched himself at her.

Dredda leapt nimbly over the oncoming juggernaut that was Draal, uncaring that she had no weapon against an opponent multiple times her size and weight. Uncaring about everything other than the angry redness clanging in her brain and scorching her veins and nerves. Draal uncurled from his juggernaut-ball and spun on his heel with a grace that belied his size and caught Dredda by the ankle. She shrieked. Draal pitched her in a low horizontal toss across the Forge. She skidded on her back, flipped, landed on all fours and dug her claws in, leaving four sets of gouges in the stone, and leapt forward like a greyhound after a lure.

Draal stood ready, stomping and blowing, but Dredda banked right and made for the switch that would activate the Forge's weapons and training systems. She heard Draal behind her, then on the wall beside her, then in front of her. She screeched to a stop and readied to spring for his eyes.

“I changed my mind,” he panted. “I'd rather fuck you.”

Dredda's mind ground to a halt again. Before she could recover, a rough, hard hand closed around her shoulder and the other was at her belt and Draal's bullish breath blew down on her from above and his scarred hide was inches from her nose, the deep brown scent of his rut reeking from it and filling her nose and her head and as quickly as it had become rage her heat swirled back to lust and all her strength ran out of her like water and she pawed weakly at the front of his leathers but her hands shook and he was too close to her and she gave up and let her trousers be skinned off her and let him yank off the wrap around her chest and let him push her down onto her back and then _oh_ Draal's burning yellow-red eyes loomed over her like twin suns and his chest rumbled like a thunderstorm and Dredda's lips skinned back from her teeth in a submissive grin and the sound of Draal's leathers flopping to the floor made her snarl

_hurry hurry I need hurry Draal hurry please I need_

and she reached between his legs to grab for his cock but he growled and pushed her back with one hand sprawled on her chest, the arm a chipped blue pillar above it and her horns hit the floor with a punishing _crack_ but she didn't care the pain was distant because the only thing that mattered was the heat of Draal's breath and the slow slick way Draal's ridged cock slid against Dredda's thigh and

_hurry Draal please I need you I need hurry hurry hurryhurryhurry_

the rocky rolling groan that came from his chest as he slid into her and _oh_

Dredda squealed like an animal impaled and gripped Draal's arm with both hands. Draal pushed into her to the edge of his knot, then pulled out slowly, drawing heavy groans from both of them. Dredda's eyes rolled back in her head as he surged into her again.

“Oh yes, this is better than fighting,” Draal said, his voice hoarse with need.

“Nnnngghh,” Dredda said.

Draal set a slow, deep rhythm that kicked the breath out of the bottom of Dredda's lungs with every thrust. Pain was liquefied pleasure, sharing her veins with blood and lust.

The weight of Draal's hand on her chest lifted suddenly; she opened her eyes to him rearing back from her. She barked in dismay as he pulled out. He muttered something in a deep rumble she didn't catch and scooped her up. She, empty of everything but need, let herself be carried, let herself be deposited on shaky, unsteady feet, let herself be mashed facefirst against the Soothscryer. Draal's pillar-like arm braced on the Soothscryer's stone eye to her left, and then she was filled again. She keened and squirmed, reaching a blind, grasping hand backwards for him. It landed on the bottom edge of his horn and she gripped hard.

The growl in his chest was threatening this time, and he snapped his head out of her grip. He punched his hips forward and rammed his knot into her. She screeched, the edges of the sound frayed by pain, and shouted again when he pulled his knot out.

Draal fucked her against the Soothscryer until his breath was ragged and whistling and he shook with the effort of containing his orgasm. Dredda struggled beneath him, but not to get _away;_ to shove him more deeply into her. He clamped his arm around her waist, immobilizing her. “Dredda, _stop wiggling_.”

“Nnnnnnnnnn,” she said, her claws jittering across the Soothscryer like hungry crabs. All thought flown from her, she turned, her eyes sparking feral yellow, and snapped at the arm holding her still.

The same bright red arrow he'd felt when she'd gripped his horn pierced his mind as her teeth pierced the hide on his arm. He barked her name and slammed her face against the Soothscryer and _swore_ the sound that came out of her was a jagged laugh of triumph. He surged forward, anger burning up the last of his stamina, and punched his knot into her once twice _thrice_ until the orgasm tore savagely through him. Dredda convulsed beneath him, pinioned by the force of his fucking a few inches off the ground. Draal was dimly aware of her feet kicking a spasmodic tattoo against his legs, which gradually slowed as the aftershocks of his own orgasm faded into pulses of ebbing pleasure.

His arm, suddenly strengthless, slid off her head and she gasped as if surfacing from beneath the water.

_Oh bushigal, I was suffocating her._

“Sorry,” he panted.

Dredda gurgled something he didn't catch, and flapped a hand. He looped both hands around her middle and drew her to him, back to belly, and, awash in the post-rut flood of sweet pink affection, nuzzled her neck while they waited for his knot to deflate.

When it did, he released her and she slid off his cock with a little groan that made him smile. She, still shaking, leaned on the Soothscryer and Draal watched his own come thread down the insides of her thighs in iridescent ropes.

The worst of the need chased to the back of her mind for now, Dredda stood with a belly full of come and a mind clear and empty. She glanced at Draal, his eyes bright and avid with post-rut energy. She knew exactly why he'd chosen to fuck her over fight her, _damn_ him. A well-fucked Dredda was a compliant Dredda, and they both knew it. He was more wily than a meatheaded warrior had any right to be.

“This,” she said, gesturing between them. “That,” she said, pointing to the teethmarks she'd left on his arm. “That's why I can't... why I come to _you_.”

The momentary confusion on Draal's face cleared. He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.

“Let me finish while I still have the words. I... this is how my heat makes me. It doesn't _work_ unless it's...” she gestured to Draal.

“A bull,” he said.

“Yes. That's who they _made_ me for. I don't say this from pride or superiority, but... I don't know if Blinky could... _handle_ me.”

The knowing smile on Draal's face told her he'd picked up every facet of the word _handle_ she'd hoped he would. “Have either of us left each other unwounded after these trysts?”

Dredda quirked her mouth. “That's not usually something I pay attention to.”

“And that's part of my _point_ , changeling. Sex doesn't have to be a battle. It shouldn't be. And the answer is no, by the way. Last time I broke your toe, remember?”

Dredda blinked, glanced down at her left foot, wiggled her toes. The littlest one still hurt. “Oh, so that's why my foot's been hurting.”

Draal coughed a laugh. “You don't _remember?_ ”

“I _told_ you, Draal, when I'm in heat, I'm...a different animal.”

He sat down beside her. “But you _have_ come a long way. I remember the first time you came to me. You couldn't even speak. The conversation-- and the little battle-- we had before the sex... wouldn't have been possible back then.”

Dredda sighed and slid down the Soothscryer until her ass hit the stone. “I suppose.”

“In my experience, it's the ones we love that hurt us the most, which could be why you're scared to go to the historian.”

Dredda rolled her eyes, irritation spiking in her. “Don't presume to lecture me on love and pain.”

“I wouldn't,” he said. “I'm only ticking off your list of excuses.” He rose and went to where they'd left their clothes, scooped them up, and came back. Dredda watched his ridged, gently spiked cock, soft for now, swing as he walked. A coil of lust twisted in her belly. She gritted her teeth against it. Draal dropped a clean cloth into her lap and deposited her trousers and wraps by her feet.

Dredda used the cloth to wipe Draal's drying come and her own heat-fluid off her legs. She didn't much like the unease that rolled through her mind. “I'll ask again. Why do you care so much? If I _do_ go to him, you might lose me.”

“Don't change the subject, changeling.”

“Fuck you,” she spat. “Answer my question.”

“You're my _friend_ , Dredda, and I _care_ about my _friends.”_

Dredda narrowed her eyes and peered into Draal's face as he pulled on his leather skirt, but could spot no hidden expression.

“Blinky is... _odd_ , but he's got a kinder soul and a bigger heart than many trolls I know,” Draal said, not looking at her. “And he's no stranger to... strangeness. I think if you talked to him after your heat ends, you both could figure out a way to, ah, _handle_ each other.”

She decided the smile on Draal's face was genuine, and took the hand he offered her. He hauled her upright. She dressed, unease still bubbling like tar just below the surface of her awareness. “Have I really been that obvious? I feel like I'm on the verge of losing my changeling subtlety card.”

Draal threw his head back and laughed, the sound booming through the Forge. “Not all the time. It was actually Aaarrrggghh and Moina who noticed first. I overheard them talking, and noticed it ever since.”

“Oh _great_ ,” Dredda groaned and slapped her forehead with her palm. “Does _everybody_ in Trollmarket know?”

Draal laughed again and clapped her on the back. “Everybody, I think, but Blinky. Come on, let's go. I've got to help train the Trollhunter tonight.”

Misery dragging her feet, Dredda followed him to the door. They both caught the muffled scuffle of feet on the other side right before Draal pulled the lever to open it.

They looked at each other.

“I hope they just heard the fucking and nothing else,” Dredda said.

**Author's Note:**

> Who do you think that was on the other side of the door?


End file.
